A Dream of Quinn

I dreamed last night that one of my cats came back to me. His name is Quinn. He was a tiny, long-haired, blackfoot sweetheart. In the dream, I was cleaning a house, dusting, sweeping, etc. The house seemed to be mine although it was no house recognized from real life.

Quinn, back in the day.

Quinn, a meticulously groomed cat, was matted in my dream. Seeing that, I made plans to thoroughly wash him and brush his fur and get it unmatted. Per his personality, Quinn dashed around. An intelligent and inquisitive beast, he always was there to see what was going on, but he despised change, and loud noises unsettled him and sent him scurrying off to a quiet safe place. So, in my dream, I ceased cleaning and making noise and just worked on coaxing Quinn to me and gaining his trust to de-mat him. I was just beginning to do so when the dream ended.

Papi, my current floof-in-residence, asks, why are you dreaming of other cats?

Oddly, awakening from that dream and reflecting on it stirred memories of living with Mom when I was young. Mom’s home would be noisy with cleaning. She’d get up and leap into action. After scrubbing the kitchen, she’d turn on the dishwasher. Next, a load of wash would be started. While dishes and clothes washed, she’d vacuum, creating a cacophony of modern cleaning. Then would be dusting and a thorough attack on the bathroom. We only had one. If home, I’d often be volunteered to vacuum and dust. Mind you, the house was already spotless before Mom started cleaning, but she always cleaned to the nth degree. In reflection, part of her house-cleaning approach was that her home reflected her abilities in her mind. I also think she reveled in the routines and sounds, as well as the results.

The other thing, on days like this, where clouds handicap the sunshine and cool air dishes it to the land, Mom would busy herself with making hot food like chili. Her chili depended on several cans of dark red kidney beans, a large diced white onion, a chopped up green pepper, a tin of tomato paste and another of stewed tomatoes, and a couple pounds of browned hamburger. I know this because I was also volunteered to help with this process.

I learned a lot at Mom’s elbow.

Twozdaz Theme Music

September is into its second day, and it’s Twozda. Word on the wireless wind is that we’ll see from 95 to 97 F in Ashlandia today. Depends on where you’re sitting. It’s 77 F now, sunny over a blue late summer sky.

Trump’s grant cuts have slammed into southern Oregon. Funny in a sad manner. Ashlandia is blue but Medford and other places lean hard red. Now, thanks to their MAGA hero, the Rogue Valley Transportation District has slashed bus services. That happened because Trump, working through DOGE, ripped away the grants the service depended on as part of their flawed war on ‘fraud, waste, and abuse’. Ten routes were cut, reducing us from 16 to 6, almost 63%. Saturday bus service is eliminated. Mon-Fri service hours have been cut back. So, there will be less drivers. Less employment. The poor, under-employed, and elderly needed transportation to and from work, social services, and visits to doctors and hospitals are said to be most affected. Just Trump taking care of his voters once again but coldly and callously cutting services they needed, after previous administrations and Congress worked together with local state, city, and county governments to make it happen.

Speaking of Trump, Earlthepearl suggested that today’s song could be “Legs” by ZZ Top. Thepearl cited the floating rumor that doctors might need to remove one of Trump’s legs. I like the idea, but The Neurons had other plans. After TACO’s mewling about ‘getting into heaven’, I have “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” playing in the morning mental music stream. Trouble is, said Neurons can’t decide on which version to play. Weirdly, I now have Guns N’ Roses performing it, along with the song’s composer, Bob Dylan. Every now and again, a little bit of “Legs” by ZZ Top is snuck in. The brain is a chaotic place this morning. Anywho, I believe we’ll go with both versions of “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”. One is honor of a young guy who served with me. Hearing GNR do “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” when it came out in 1987, he came to me and a few other established rockers and exclaimed, “Come on, you got to admit, this is a great song.” We replied, “You do know that this is a cover, don’t you?” Ya should’ve seen his jaw drop.

But then, an audible was called at the line. Playing for Change’s cover replaced GNR.

Coffee has been ordered into my body to establish order. Hope peace and grace take hold of you and lead you through the messes and deliver you safely to the other end. Cheers

Wenzdaz Wandering Thoughts

Let me tell you about the pants.

First, I’ll tell you about my typical summer wardrobe.

But first, a side path.

The side path is that I suffer from edema. Maybe it’s the lymphatic flavor. Medicos are out about the source and cause. Addressing it means I wear knee-high support hose. They work, help, however you want to put it. However, I’m a vain guy and don’t want to be seen wearing them outdoors.

My standard summer clothing choice since I was a small child are short pants, or shorts. I’m not going out in them while wearing my support house. I’ve seen folks out there in that combo. I admire their courage. Did I mention that I’m vain?

All this means I had a new challenge: what to wear when the sunshine and air conspire to push temperatures into the 80s, 90s, and 100s, as happens here in Ashlandia in the months between May and October. Jeans do not work for me. They feel hot, sweaty, and constricting.

My wife said, “You should wear joggers.”

Suspicions roused themselves. What was that? Joggers? I know what they are. I’ve seen young people in them. And women wear them. I’m not a young person or a woman. However…

I began sniffing around joggers. Looking for garments which will meet my needs. There are men’s joggers out there, but they often lack pockets. I like having pockets, especially those of the pouch type on my front thigh, where I can safely and comfortably deposit my wallet.

My search culminated at Costco. There, as if in answer to my hopes, were Wrangler Men’s Tech Pants. Made of synthetics, they met all my other needs, and were priced to move at $22. I put them into the cart and tried them on at home.

They fit. They’re comfortable. And they look good without attracting attention. I am not fond of attraction.

After wearing the black ones for a few days, I purchased them in grey and khaki. My vanity is appeased, and my wife is pleased with my appearance. All in all, a small win-win for me.

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

Got my new computer. Ordered it online from Costco. Just a small laptop, nada fancy. Was supposed to be delivered tomorrow but made it in today. Two hours of clicking and it was set up and running, all settings, passwords, docs, etc., transferred between the old machine and the new. Typing this on the new peach.

All of that reminded me of the ancient times when new computers were received. Hard drives had to be partitioned and formatted. OS loaded, followed by programs, security, net connections, and so on. In the distant floppy days, disc after disc would be inserted to do these things. Hours would saunter by.

So, tech, you know? Progress. So much easier. Reminds me of the old stories about washing clothes told by Mom, starting cars related by Dad, using landline telephones, etc. Who knows, though? Maybe under PINO TACO, we’ll revert back to all that tedium.

After all, he has a bizarro sense of progress.

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

We went out on a drive, purchasing a few needed items, dropping off recycled bottles and cans for the Soroptimists, paying bills. I was a little preoccupied with an article about Sears. Nationally, Sears once had 3500 stores and a thriving mail order business. Now, one Sears store remains in California, part of six nationwide.

Sears was a foundational brick for my childhood. Sears catalogues inspired dreams of Christmas gifts. We headed to the Sears on Business 22 to buy back to school clothes and winter coats. Need a tool? Go to Sears.

Now, like Montgomery Ward*, which employed my grandfather, Woolworth, Murphy’s, and K-Mart, it’s about to vanish from the shopping zones and soon from memories. I was thinking about all the places because we were driving by the Rite Aid in Ashland. It used to be a pretty good store, a familiar place to shop and find things we needed. Now it’s being disappearing, being replaced by a CVS, a store we don’t care for much.

The Sears Tower, Sears’ new corporate headquarters and the world’s tallest building at the time, opened in 1973. I wonder who thought it would be almost gone by 2025.

And then I think about Amazon.

*Yes, I know a second company named Montgomery Ward has been relaunched this century. Same name, different company,

Wenzda’s Wandering Thoughts

They call it sticker shock. My wife and I labeled it a friggin’ kick in the head.

We decided to make brownies for our annual Fourth of July gathering. To give it an Independence Day flavor, red, white, and blue chocolate M&Ms would be added to the top. I hustled to the store to buy said M&Ms.

First stop, Bi-Mart, didn’t have them. Second stop, Albertson’s, did. One size: 38 ounces.

38 ounces. Seriously? Who needs that many M&Ms? But if I need to…I guess…

$15.99. On sale. Marked down from $17.99.

Get out of here. What are these, organic M&Ms hand-wrapped by virgins in gold foil?

Neither price was acceptable to me. As a boomer, I remember M&Ms as something I bought a little bag of for a quarter. Last time that I bought a pound of M&Ms, they were like $5. Even a pound bag seemed more than enough, and this wasn’t that many years ago. What are people doing, spooning M&Ms into their mouths?

The world has gone friggin’ nuts. I really am channeling the old codger in me, aren’t I?

Frida’s Wandering Political Thoughts

As I survey life in the United States from my home in 2025, it feels to me like we’ve gone from Nanny State to Bully State. Trump demonstrates his bully tendencies with everything that he does.

Donald Trump Makes Legal Threat To CNN And The New York Times Over Their Reporting On Iran Intel Assessment

Along the way to becoming a bully nation, the Trump Regime is energetically dumping facts. Trump’s own regime’s Intel said Iran wasn’t near completing a nuclear weapon. Trump claimed that he knew better without offering any facts.

After the bombing, Trump said that the mission resulted in Iran’s nuclear capabilities being “obliterated.” The Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) assessment said that Iran’s program was probably only set back a few months. Trump insists, without evidence, we must believe him.

On June 20, a reporter asked Trump: “What intelligence do you have that Iran is building a nuclear weapon? Your Intelligence Community has said they have no evidence that they are at this point.” Trump responded, “Well then my Intelligence Community is wrong,” and he said that Gabbard was “wrong.”

You can see why doubt is blooming like flowers in the spring. The Trump Regime’s response to everything among its directors, press secretaries, and cabinet members is, hey, trust us. They really dislike questions and react with violent anger when questioned, especially when facts get involved. Yet, we have several parts of the government saying one thing while TACO insists its otherwise. We have metrics saying one thing while TACO and his trumpizens insist their alternative set of facts say differently.

Polls are showing, for now, that more U.S. citizens believe the United States is on the wrong track. We see more of the same in the latest consumer confidence index.

WASHINGTON (AP) — Americans’ view of the U.S. economy worsened in June, resuming a downward slide that had dragged consumer confidence to its lowest level since the COVID-19 pandemic five years ago.

The Conference Board said Tuesday that its consumer confidence index slid to 93 in June, down 5.4 points from 98.4 last month, which represented a brief uptick.

Of course, as a group, the U.S. electorate is a jelly-filled crumbly invertebrate. Many critics will say of this group and my gross generalization, there are so many issues, the issues fracture us. Yes, and that’s normal in any democracy. But shouldn’t history, truth, and facts mean more? As we’re frequently finding, truth and facts only matter to same when they slap people in the face like a used diaper via personal experience.

We see this especially demonstrated in the Immigration issue, as orchestrated by Killer Noem and her banditos. After teaching people to question authorities and question mask-wearing gunmen, we’re now supposed to just accept that it’s okay for ICE to disappear people? We used to fill milk cartons with people who went missing. Now, like a lying president and mass shootings, disappeared people is becoming a new American norm. Doesn’t matter if the disappeared are criminals; doesn’t matter if due process is followed. Who needs law and order in this growing lawless nation?

Remember when we used to say, “Innocent until proven guilty”?

Do you recall the days when “Everyone has their day in court”?

What about that old idea that, “If you’re not doing anything illegal, you don’t have anything to fear”?

Hey, that shit is gone. This is what happens when history, facts, and truth no longer matter. Little by little, day by day, decision by decision, act by act, truth, justice, and due process matter less and less.

And then a point is reached when nothing matters except the bully in charge.

Mom Update

Mom and her boyfriend appear to be ready to move out of Mom’s house.

This is a big step for Mom. Not only is it a familiar place, a comfortable place for her, but it’s rich with history. She lost her previous house in divorce proceedings when the two parties agreed that selling is what needed to be done, as neither could afford to pay the mortgage on their own. Mom then saved for years for a place that she could afford on her own. This place was finally the one. Like Mom, the house has a lot of charm. Now both are old.

Mom fixed up that home through the years. Seventeen grand and greatgrandchildren have visited it for parties, holidays, and celebrations. She hadn’t finished high school; while living in that house, she got her GED. She then went on to become a nurse, RN & LPN. She was rightfully very proud of those accomplishments.

Her house has always tidy and spotless. Cleaning and cooking, having family, are her passions. But the house, with its narrow, step stairs, are no longer a safe place for her. That’s painful to acknowledge. Her physical limitations keep her from cooking and cleaning. The grands and greats rarely visit because Mom is mostly tired, medicated, and bed-ridden. She depends on her boyfriend. Now 95, he’s finally up against limitations. He becomes dizzy and falls. It’s not a good situation for the two of them. Now, he has mass in his lung which might be cancer, but with his age, they don’t feel there’s any worthwhile treatments for him.

Like many things, there are more factors swirling underneath the surface emotions, conversations, and actions. Like, he doesn’t want to pay rent, which he would need to do in the new place, because he wants to leave money for his children, grandchildren, etc. This is mostly an ego thing because all of his offspring are well off. And if he has cancer and becomes sicker and worse…well, that doesn’t need to be spelled out. We can all visualize the added complexities.

Egos, complexities, and history are all part of the package. Nothing can just be dimissed. It must be lived through, endured, and shaped until it fits the current moment.

That’s life.

Mom Updates

First, my oral surgery this morning went super. I’m recovering without issues.

I don’t know what’s going on with Dad in Texas. They’ve gone silent. I’ve requested updates.

Now, to Mom. After being found constipated and in intense pain, Mom spent the night in a hospital. Now, she’s much better, back at home, and out of pain. But, his situation isn’t sustainable.

The family of Mom’s boyfriend agree. One of them has found an apartment for them. But will Frank agree? Will he move? Someone needs to have a deep heart-to-heart with him, making him see the light, and make it happen.

As with so many things in life, easier said than done. What’s even sadder is that we have multiple couples in this area who are on the verge of becoming Frank and Mom. They’ve set themselves up to move but they’re holding off, holding off, holding off. For what, a crises? Well, in a sense, yes. Change is challnging. They’re not ‘motivated’ to move…yet. But too many people aren’t willing to see for themselves how their situation is getting worse. They convince themselves that they’ll be okay and don’t have to move, so long as they get through the latest. But the latest gets worse. It’s not a one-time event; it’s part of a deepening trend, and they won’t see it. They refuse to see it, to their detriment.

And I do understand this. Making the logical, intelligent decision to change what’s going on is one thing. But following through with the emotional component and then the physical component are often something else altogether. And you know that these people, with their life experiences and age ehind them, often do understand this. They’ve seen others go through it; that’s why they did their planning.

It’s in the execution where they fail. And again, that’s where so many of us come up short, isn’t it?

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